Unspoken
by woodelvesrock42
Summary: What if Jason had complied, and given Charlie to his father? The game is forever changed for Miles and Monroe, and it isn't looking good for the former. Will Charlie and Danny stay strong against Captain Neville and the Militia, or will Miles be too late?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is supposed to be a "what if" situation, in which Jason actually did bring Charlie to his father, instead of tossing her unceremoniously out of the train. Hope you enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Revolution. Big surprise.**

* * *

"Bring her to me, or I shoot the bitch."

Jason's mind raced as he stared daggers at his father. He could feel Charlie's nails digging into his arm, and he could see the desperation in her brother's eyes. He hesitated, glancing towards the open door, and out towards the tall grass whooshing past.

"_Jason!_"

A sudden boom echoed in the room, shaking the entire cabin, and Neville's eyes raked the busted doorway behind his son.

He complied, slowly bringing Charlie towards the older man. She resisted, digging her heels into the slick floor of the car, but Jason was stronger. The clattering of boots from the next car drowned out her desperate last attempt to plead with Jason, and he turned away, unable to face her.

_I'm sorry, Charlie, _he thought. _Please forgive me._

The far door burst open, revealing five men, armed to the teeth. Captain Neville motioned to the nearest one.

"Take her to the next car. I'll follow with the boy."

The soldier nodded, and roughly grabbed Charlie's arm. He reached for his belt, and Jason's heart stopped in his chest.

But he only pulled out a pair of shiny silver cuffs.

Neville turned to Jason, and pointed to the busted door.

"Go, take three men and get rid of the uncle."

Jason nodded, relieved to be spared the guilt of meeting Charlie's blue eyes once again. He marched towards the door, reaching it before turning back one last time.

"I trusted you, Nate!"

Charlie.

This was followed by the deafening slam of the far door, and Jason took this as his cue of leave. Stepping out into the warm air, he looked over the top of the adjacent car.

Miles Matheson was slowly making his way towards them, eyes filled with malice, and— what Jason would later realize— concern for his niece and nephew. Seeing the young soldier, his face became a mask of anger, and he advanced at a quicker rate.

Then he saw the three machine guns trained on him, and he froze.

Then, shooting Jason one last look of contempt and disgust, he flung himself off the train.

* * *

Miles hit the dirt rolling, painfully banging his knee on a rock before sliding to a stop. He immediately sprung up, dashing towards the last car of the the train.

_Shit!_ Charlie wasn't flying out of the locomotive, so he had to assume that Neville had her. He ignored the throbbing pain in his left knee, biting his lip as he stopped, panting, with his hands bracing his side.

"Charlie," he yelled, just for good measure. "_Charlie!"_

Now he had not only failed at getting Danny back, bet he had let the militia take Charlie.

Damn it all to hell! He was definitely the worst uncle the world had ever seen. Not that he would ever admit to Charlie that he cared about her, but seriously. Now he'd done it.

He began the long trudge back to town, back to Nora and Aaron.

Back to reality. And man, did reality suck right now.

* * *

Charlie fought against her escort, fighting the urge to cry out in frustration.

"Danny!" She called back to where she knew her brother and Captain Neville were, but her captor tightened his grip on her arms.

"Shut up!"

"Make me," she spat, disregarding the nagging feeling that she would be punished for all of this later.

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

Charlie braced herself for the inevitable sting of his hand, but it never came. She opened her eyes, not knowing what to expect.

Tom Neville stood, leering at her with those eyes that seemed to pass right through her. Next to him, Danny shook his head.

"Don't, Charlie. It's not worth it," he said, and she could see the bruises that were scattered over his arms and face.

So she shut her mouth, and the man holding her shoved her into one of the chairs that furnished the grand-looking compartment they were now in. Danny was sat in the chair across from her, and if she were not cuffed, Charlie would have immediately embraced him.

Danny stared at her, tears starting to form in his eyes, and she knew he would have done the same.

"Why'd you come, Charlie?"

She fought to find the right words.

"I-I made a p-promise, remember? I said I'd n-never let go of your hand. The one time I did, the one time, and I l-lost you."

Neville walked behind Danny's chair, drumming his fingers on the back. He frowned at the girl in front of him, and took a breath before speaking in a low, threatening voice.

"How long have you and Miles been trailing us?"

Danny looked at his sister with surprise.

"Miles was with you?"

Neville cleared his throat, and Danny fell silent. He mouthed _since when_ to Charlie, but Neville cut them off.

Not going to answer me, huh? Just like Miles."

He strolled casually around to her chair, as if taking a walk in the park. He stopped right behind her, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. She recoiled, but Neville only chuckled.

"I only need one of you, you know. And Danny here is looking a little worse for wear."

Charlie swallowed.

"Fine. We've been trailing you for weeks now. And we've been doing a much better job than your moronic scout. What's his real name, by the way?"

The captain didn't answer the last question, but continued at a slow, deadly pace.

"Thank you, Charlie," he motioned to the three men that surrounded them. "C'mon, boys. Let's give them a little quality family time."

With that, they left, and the squeak of boots was soon distant as the door slammed shut.

Danny immediately stood up, and kneeled at Charlie's side, taking advantage of the fact that he was not cuffed. He made short work of her own bindings, and she sprung up for the chair, and flung her arms around his neck.

He hugged her back, and they stood in silence.

They may be captives of Monroe himself, but at least they were together. As things go, it could be a lot worse.

And it would be soon.

* * *

Rachel stared out the window, and into the sea of blue uniforms, desperately scanning the crowd for a shock of blond hair that would prove to her that her son was in fact alive. She almost didn't notice Bass slip into the room, and slide next to her, a smirk frozen on his face.

"I have good news, Rachel," he offered in his quiet, raspy voice. "You'll get to see both of your children."

She spun, crowd forgotten to face Monroe.

"Charlie..."

He nodded slowly, his smile spreading into an awful grimace. She turned back towards the scene below her, and her heart sank to her stomach.

Danny was being led by two soldiers, against whom he struggled, and next to him being escorted by Neville himself was Charlie, fighting against the captain, all the while stealing concerned glances at her brother.

Rachel felt a sudden swell of pride for her children, but it was soon replaced with cold realization.

"Danny's hurt," she whispered feebly, much to the delight of Bass.

"Don't worry, Rachel," he purred. "You'll see them soon. Very soon."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate the support! WARNING: A little potty mouth is included in this chapter. Somebody better get the soap...**

* * *

Charlie squinted against the bright sun, which had caused a sudden and rather unwelcome headache. She let herself be led towards the station by Captain Neville. Much to her surprise, however, they stopped halfway across the terminal.

A woman in a red dress advanced towards them, her eyes on Neville the entire time, a smile dancing in her lips. Neville let go of Charlie, and threw out his arms, embracing who was obviously his wife.

Charlie thought about making a dash for it, but for once in her life, decided against the first thing that popped into her head. Too many people, and too many things they would do to Danny if she tried to escape. She couldn't let that happen.

The woman let go of Neville, and smiled at Nate, who had been standing by, unseen by Charlie until now. She put her hand on his cheek, and uttered the very words that made Charlie's blood run cold, and her stomach twist in knots.

"Hello, Jason."

He smiled. "Hello, mother."

The woman hugged him ferociously, and an unexpected wave of nostalgia passed over Charlie. It hadn't been too long ago when the only mother-like person in her life had been unjustly ripped from her, and now she had to witness Nate, or "Jason" as his _mother_ had called him, experience the one thing she never would. Her steadily increasing jealousy and disgust was cut short, however, as the woman looked at her.

"Tom," she cautioned, without taking her eyes off of Charlie, who did her best to appear stoic and unconcerned. "Please tell me you haven't hurt any of your prisoners too seriously."

Charlie scoffed, and was about to reply, before Jason cut her off with a glare that sent her mind reeling with something she couldn't define.

"No, mother. They haven't been hurt at all."

_Oh, not at all, _Charlie though bitterly. _Not at all._

* * *

Miles said "fuck" for the eleventh time that day, and kicked his eighteenth rock across the dusty road. His brow was furrowed, and his face was the poster child of frustration. Aaron rolled his eyes, and considered reprimanding him, but decided against it. Scolding a failed uncle in possession of a sword was not a wise thing to do.

Nora trailed behind, a distant look in her eyes, and a hand braced against her side. Aaron slowed to walk beside her.

"You okay? That guy got you pretty bad, back there."

She sighed, and nodded towards Miles. "It's him I'm worried about." She stopped, and pulled Aaron closer. "He thinks it's his fault, you know. That Charlie's been captured too."

Aaron scoffed. "But it's obviously _not_. I mean, this sucks, but he needs to pull himself together."

"He loves her, you know. He loved Ben, too, but he can't admit that yet. He's just not practiced enough as, well, a likable person."

He nodded. "I've figured that out by now, thank you."

Up ahead Miles walked at a brisk pace, anything to escape the condescending chatter his companions were surely offering behind him. The sooner they got to Philly the sooner he could right his wrong, and get on with life. But every time he thought of Philadelphia, he thought of Bass, his best friend, his worst enemy.

And how he was going to have to blow his fucking brains out. For what he'd done to Ben, to Rachel, and what he was inevitably going to do to his only niece and nephew.

Miles hoisted his pack up higher on his shoulder, and picked up the pace.

* * *

"They're here, Rachel," Monroe breathed. He stood in the doorway, hands clasped tightly behind his back, eyes on the woman that was before him.

"Can't you just let them go? Please, I'll tell you anything you need, just-"

"It's too late for that, Rachel. You've already delivered the killing blow." He strode over to her, and offered a calloused hand. "Now come. They await us in the dining room."

Rachel reluctantly stood, shaking slightly at the prospect of facing her children after years of deprivation. Would they even recognize her?

They walked down the hallway, and then descended the rickety stairs. With each step, Rachel's heart began to beat a little faster. By the bottom step, she was breathless.

They reached the door, daunting now in all it's promise, and Bass opened it slowly, allowing paranoia to slowly set in. But soon it was wide open, and Rachel stepped in uncertainly.

Danny and Charlie stood before her, shoulder to shoulder. Charlie was slightly in front of her younger brother, her blue eyes alight with mistrust that made the older woman's heart clench painfully. Danny stood behind her, eyes cast down at the floor in front of his mother's feet.

"D-danny, Charlie..."

Charlie slowly stepped forward, her hand hovering unconsciously in front of her brother. After a prolonged silence, she dashed forward and threw her arms around Rachel.

"Mom," she sobbed.

"Shh, honey, it's okay. I'm here." She hugged her daughter back, despite the changes in stature that had made her seem almost unrecognizable. She let go, and held Charlie at arm's length, smiling from ear to ear despite the grim circumstances.

Charlie turned to Danny, and held out her hand to him. He had never really remembered his mother, and here she was, in front of him. He reluctantly stepped forward, and allowed himself to be embraced by the mom he never knew.

"I missed you guys so much," she whispered, relishing the hug as long as she could.

Bass laughed, a soft yet menacing sort of chuckle. He slowly strolled over to the three Mathesons. Charlie, sensing that something was wrong, threw her arms out protectively, covering both her mother and Danny.

"That's cute," Monroe hissed, eyes alight with a newfound fire. "So very sweet. But I'm afraid it's time to get down too business."

He produced a slender knife from his coat, and fingered the tip like a butcher about to slice a steak.

"Who's first? Big sister, her little brother, or mommy dearest?"

* * *

Charlie stared Monroe down, defiant despite the mind-numbing fear that seemed to envelope the group. She stepped forward, and Danny shook his head viciously.

"No, Charlie, please..."

Her mother began to cry softly, and Charlie refused to look back at them.

"I will," she said forcefully, with as much confidence as she could muster.

Danny rushed forward, and grabbed her arm, positioning himself next to her.

"You take her, you take me."

Bass giggled disconcertingly, and shrugged his shoulders. Then he reverted back to his usually stone-faced facade.

"Very well."


	3. Chapter 3

** A/N: You guys are great. My Giants just won the frakkin' World Series, so if I'm distracted, I apologize in advance. Thanks for the support! Anyone else really like the episode "Sex and Drugs"? Is that a stupid question?**

* * *

Jason paced back in forth, his eyes set determinedly on the floor in front of him. How could he have just let his father take Charlie? How could he have allowed this to happen?

He felt something for her. He couldn't deny that, for it ate away at him at night, and occupied his thoughts during the day. But why? He really didn't know her, didn't know what her favorite flower was, what she thought about when she was alone, what her heart was made of.

Great. Now he sounds like one of those cheesy romance novels his mother had saved. He was now the brooding savior, and Charlie was the damsel in distress.

He laughed at that. Charlie in distress? Hardly. She would spit in distress's face. And he certainly lacked the "savior" bit. In fact, he was more of the cold, heartless villain. He immediately stopped laughing. He suddenly felt hollow, empty yet filled with a certain sadness that was hard to pinpoint.

He sighed, and sat down heavily in the chair by the dusty window. He placed his head in his hands, and attempted to think of other things, like who was playing cards at the mess hall that evening, and which parry he thought worked the best when engaged in close combat.

A knock on the door, rapid and eager, interrupts his train of thought.

"Hey, Jason, you in there? Captain says he needs you."

That would be one of his fellow soldiers. Rolling his eyes, Jason got up, shook out his arms, and swung the door open, following the other man down the long corridor. They finally reached the end of the hall, and he reached out a hand to knock upon the grand door to his father's office.

"Sir?"

Neville waved him in.

"At ease, soldier."

Jason relaxed his tense shoulders.

"Yes, father?"

The older man laced his fingers together, and placed them on the desk.

"Jason, I've been promoted. To Major."

Jason struggled for the right words to say to the authority figure.

"That's great," he reasoned, shifting from foot to foot. "Why are you telling me?"

The Major sighed, and stood up, a smile slowly stretching across his prematurely weathered face.

"I'll be able to stay here, with your mother. And you'll be assigned to jobs with more responsibility."

He leaned over, and gave his son a firm handshake.

"Congratulations, kid. You've just been put in charge of your first group of men."

* * *

Strausser paced back and forth between Charlie and Danny, eyeing each with a look of disdain and eerie self-contentment. He toyed with a pair of menacing looking pliers, and stopped before Danny's chair. He kneeled down, sinking to eye level.

"So, Danny. That's a good name, don't you think. Would hate to have to enforce a nickname, say Danny Dentures? Or One-Eye Danny?"

He laughed at his own sick joke, and shot forward with the pliers, missing Danny's nose by an inch. The boy jerked backwards, despite the obvious poor aim of the sergeant.

"What's the matter son, you scared of a little good-hearted humor?" He turned to Charlie, and produced a thin needle, rusted and razor sharp, from his overcoat.

"What about you, kiddo? Charlie, eh? That's cute. How about we make you a little _less_ cute. A gash here, a scar there, and you'll be done up in no time!" He chuckled, and pointed at Danny. "And what'll your brother here do about that, eh?"

He was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

"Come in," he barked, all business now that he'd had his fun.

Charlie didn't bother turning around. Instead, she met Danny's eye, and cast him a concerned look. He rolled his eyes, and stuck his tongue out at her. She grinned. THere was the Danny she knew.

Meanwhile, Strausser had been speaking in hushed tones with another officer. Charlie heard him give a word of affirmation, and shut the door in a quiet way that seemed vaguely sinister to the two prisoners. He retreated back into her field of vision.

"What was that all about?" She spoke cautiously, hoping to avoid one of the crude tools of the trade that lay across the floor.

"Nosy, are we? Why don't we find out what you know, then?" He walked around to the back of her chair, and placed his hands on her shoulders. Leaning in close, he stopped directly next to her ear. He casually pulled a long, thin knife out of his boot, and nonchalantly wiggled it in front of her face. Charlie braced herself for the inevitable barrage of questions, but was surprised when he directed the first at Danny.

"Did your father ever mention anything about a reason for the blackout? Tell me, boy, or I cut her pretty face up!"

Charlie shook her head, prompting Strausser to grab her hair painfully.

"Well?"

Danny stuttered, searching for an answer.

"I-I don' know, sir."

The sergeant chuckled. "Wrong answer, kid." He made a sudden movement, and Charlie yelped in pain, a thin red line down the left side of her face. Strausser took the knife away, and wiped it on his coat. He then marched over to Danny, and pointed the tip at his face.

"Let's see if Cinderella here does a better job." He turned towards Charlie.

"Did he _ever_ tell you anything? Anything at all?"

Charlie bit her lip, and shook her head.

"No, _sir_, he didn't. He just said that I should find my uncle."

Strausser laughed. "Of course, the mighty Miles Matheson." He placed the knife on the floor with the rest of his tools, and stepped back, bowing, his head nearly touching the floor.

"That's all for today, kids. Class dismissed."

With that, he left them alone in the grand room. The moment the door clicked shut, Danny turned to Charlie, guilt evident in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Charlie. I'm just not as brave as you. Are you okay?"

She laughed softly, and waved his apology off.

"Don't worry about it Danny. I'm okay. I've had worse, trust me."

His brow furrowed in a look of mock concern. "Charlie Matheson? The great Charlie Matheson, who's faced armies alone, and lived to tell the tale?"

She burst into laughter, and shook her head.

"Shut up, Danny."

She may have been bleeding and a captive of the Monroe Republic, but she was with Danny, and that was all that mattered to her. As long as he was safe, she would be okay, and okay she was.

For now, that is.


	4. Chapter 4

** A/N: I have nothing to say, except thanks for all the support, no matter how repetitive and redundant that sounds! I promise I'll make the next chapter a little bit longer!**

* * *

Jason braced himself to knock on the towering doors of the dining room. He knew that Charlie and Danny were no doubt being "questioned" in there, and he didn't think he could face her again, especially after his father's promotion. But, nonetheless, he took a deep breath, and rapped three short times on the wood of the right-most door.

"Come in," came Strausser's chilling voice from inside. Jason pushed the door open, and stepped inside. Charlie hadn't turned around, and neither had her brother. He could see her dirty blond hair hanging down the back of the chair, and his stomach churned.

"What is it, boy?"

"Uh, Captain, er, _Major_ Neville has an assignment for you, sir. It's confidential. You're to come at once."

The older man scratched his chin, and sighed. "Alright, but I was just staring to have fun. Tell 'im I'll be there in a few."

Jason nodded, and hurriedly shut the door, eager to escape the horror of what he'd instigated. The laughter of Strausser acted as a grim soundtrack for his guilt as he made the trek down the hall, towards his father's office.

* * *

Miles hurriedly shoved Nora into the cart, his heart like a hammer in his ears. He opened his mouth to shout at Aaron to hurry up and get in, but was interrupted by another moan of pain from the woman lying at his feet.

"Hey, c'mon Nora, it'll be alright."

Aaron slid in next to him, and Miles leapt towards the front, taking up the reins. He could hear the raised voices of the militiamen on their heels, but he shouted over the din to the other man.

"Keep her safe back there, nerd!"

Aaron gave a shaky thumbs up.

"Sure thing, Mr. Macho!"

With a snap of the reins, and the ring of gunshots all around them, they sped off towards the help that Miles could only hope existed on the desolate road in front of them.

* * *

"Hey, you two, keep it quiet over there."

Charlie rolled her eyes, and shifted on the spot. She glared at the four men in front of her. She turned to her brother.

"Hey, Danny which guy do you think is the ugliest?" Danny laughed out loud.

The man who had spoken earlier, a tall, gaunt specimen, slammed his fist into the nearest table, a little wood thing that creaked under the force.

"That's it," he hissed. His shortest companion, a stocky man with red hair and beady eyes, put a large hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, c'mon Benjamin, we're not supposed to do anything to 'em. You heard the Major."

Benjamin spit, but sat back down in his chair. He shook off the other man's hand, and muttered to him in a hushed tone.

"I don' like the boy, Scott. I don' like the girl either, but the boy just pisses me off."

Scott scoffed, and replied in a hoarse voice, "Yeah."

Danny turned calmly to the third man, the youngest soldier there, and redirected Charlie's question at him, barely keeping the laughter out of his voice.

"Who do _you _think is more hideous?"

At this, Benjamin sprung out of his chair, and yanked Danny up by the collar of his shirt.

"Say that again, boy," he spat, spittle oozing out from between his clenched teeth. Scott didn't do anything to stop him. Instead he stood solemnly in the corner, menacing despite his stature.

Danny looked him straight in the face, but didn't say a word. Benjamin chuckled.

"That's what I thought."

Charlie stared daggers into his back as he retreated. She caught Danny's eye, and he nodded. At this, she stood up from her spot on the dusty floor of the basement.

"_Now!_"

Danny jumped up, ripping his hands out from his loosened bindings, and leapt on top of Benjamin. Charlie, following suit, hefted her brother's chair into the air, and swung it towards Scott. He threw up his arm, and the chair hit it with a sickening _thwack!_ He howled in pain, cradling his it in his other arm. Charlie took advantage of his stunned state, and slammed into him, sending him sprawling into the fourth soldier, a man well into his fifties. They both toppled over, limbs splayed and eyes wide in surprise as they hit the floor with a thud.

Charlie wrestled her own wrists out from her bindings, and made towards her brother—who was engaged in a heated fight with Benjamin—only to be intercepted rather roughly by the young soldier, who sent a fist flying into her stomach. She reeled from the pain, but recovered with a knee in the soldier's groin, and he dropped to the floor, tears streaming out of his eyes.

Danny's head whipped back after a particularly nasty hit by Benjamin, and he wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand. He straightened up, and sent his own fist at the militiaman's head. He dodged it, but Danny managed to clip his cheek, which was enough to send him stumbling backwards.

And straight into Sebastian Monroe.

"Looks like we've been busy, here," he purred in his raspy monotone. He stepped calmly over Scott and the older soldier, who were both still on the floor, and patted Benjamin on the back.

"I'll take it from here."

* * *

Rachel looked up from her book as the door to her stately prison cell of a room creaked open. She prepared for the grim face of Bass, but was stunned to see her children enter instead.

"Danny, Charlie, what-" she stopped, seeing now the bruises and blood on their faces and arms. She immediately shot up from her chair, and strode towards them.

"What happened? Are you alright? No, that's a stupid question." When she reached them, she smashed them both in an enormous hug.

"We're okay, mom. Don't worry," Charlie mumbled, hugging her back.

Rachel let go, however, when she realized who was behind them.

"Sebastian," she said curtly, using his full name to enforce her anger. "They are _children. _They have nothing to do with this, you just can't-"

He cut her off with a flick of her wrist, leaning against the doorway, a dark look of self-contentment on his face.

"I can do whatever I want, Rachel, and these two have more to do with this than you can ever imagine," he reached over, and placed a hand on Danny's shoulder. "Besides, they're hardly children, now, are they?"

He sighed, and pretended to be interested in his hand. Rachel followed his gaze, and noticed the crimson splotched of blood on his knuckles.

"Just leave, Bass," she whispered, eyes glued to his hand. Monroe chuckled, and turned to leave.

"Just remember, Rachel. I could always do worse."

* * *

Miles snapped the reins, willing the horses that pulled the cart to come to a halt in front of a grand mansion, pearly white despite the obvious dilapidation of the past.

"This is private property, turn around," the bulky man guarding the gate warned.

"I'm friend of Drexel's," Miles retorted. "And I need help."


	5. Chapter 5

** A/N: Monroe is such an evil, evil bastard, but he's a damn cool one, if you ask me.**

* * *

Charlie tossed and turned, deep in fitful sleep, the past day's events swirling in her head, as she slid in and out of consciousness.

_Monroe stood in front of Danny and her, a smile slowly spreading over his face, and his eyes bore holes into hers as he stared them down with grim satisfaction._

_"Now, didn't your daddy ever tell you that people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones?"_

_The first hit came quicker than she had expected. It felt as though she'd been hit by a truck, and before she knew it, her face was on the dusty floor. Danny was quickly put down as well, but it was evident that the ex-Marine wasn't quite finished with them yet._

_"You are so much like Miles, Charlie," he muttered, raspy and cold, in her ear. "But his type of thinking will do you in." He grabbed a fistful of her shirt, and pulled her onto her feet. Danny scrambled up, and stood resolutely next to his big sister. "So, if he did teach you well, which he clearly has, why don't you take me on, huh? Are you scared? Yeah, like father like daughter, like mother like son."_

_Danny's eyes flashed menacingly. "Don't _ever_ insult our father."_

_Monroe laughed, a low and frightening sort of chuckle that sent shivers down Charlie's spine. "What are you gonna do about it, Danny? It was your fault, you know, that Ben died." He turned to Charlie, a dangerous tint in his dark eyes, like the calm before the storm. "And you, Charlie? From what I heard, you weren't even there, weren't even there as your father bled, as your brother was hauled away to God-knows-where."_

_That did it for both young Mathesons, and they simultaneously flung themselves towards Monroe. Danny swung at his face, while Charlie went for his midsection. The General intercepted Danny, and shoved him aside, but Charlie managed to slam him backwards a few steps. He recovered, however, and he grabbed her arm, twisting it back into the socket until she cried out._

_Danny yelled once more, and Monroe redirected his attention on the enraged teenager. Charlie gasped, holding her arm at an odd angle. She suddenly recalled what Maggie had once told her about dislocated joints, and bit her lip while she jerked it back into position. She shook her head, and turned her eyes on her brother, who was engaged in a heated fight with Monroe._

_He laughed a sick, vicious laugh as he fended off the boy's spirited—if not weakened by his increasing shortage of oxygen—attacks._

_"Guess what, kids? You're in my glass house, and you've already cracked the wall."_

* * *

Miles eyes Drexel with caution, as he was not to be trusted. He already regrets coming here, but Nora was obviously on the brink of life and death, and he would _not _ lose her. So, here he was, begging for aid from the very man who had pointed a gun at his head just a few minutes ago. Nora was being led downstairs, and he and Aaron stood, awkwardly, in the center room of the dealer's mansion. Drexel himself approached, and smiled.

"I've got rooms for the both of you," he said, raising above his head in a strangely religious manner.

"I'll go with Nora," Miles announced. He stopped, and whispered in his companion's ear, "Aaron, stay in your room and don't leave unless I give the clear."

Aaron nodded, and MIles followed Drexel down to the basement, a cold and surprisingly sterile room that smelled of chlorine, and the sickly sweet stench of narcotics.

"What's this?"He motioned to the assortment of different colored powder and lumps of discolored mystery material.

"Penicillin, among other things," the doctor replied, "We grow 'em ourselves." He beckoned Miles over to him. "What type of blood you got?"

In a matter of minutes, Miles found himself hooked up to Nora, watching his own crimson blood flow through a tube, and into her arm. He reached across the adjoining cold metal tables in which they lay, and grasped her hand.

_It's gonna be okay, Nora,_ he thought. _I'll take care of you._

* * *

Strausser approached Neville's boy, and tapped him on the shoulder, a grin started to form on his face.

"Boy, I've got a job for you," he barked. Jason turned, and gave him a salute, in which the Sergeant returned half-heartedly.

"At ease." He reached into his overcoat, and drew out a long, slender package, that bore more weight than one might think. He handed to the boy, who seemed at least mildly surprised to be receiving it.

"Since I won't be here, I'm gonna need you to do me a favor." He smiled at Jason, and patted him on the back. "You get to interrogate the Matheson brats!"

He watched as the kid's face went from hopeful to horrified, and he quickly shoved the package back into Strausser's hands.

"I-I'm sorry sir. I can't do that."

The older man frowned, and waved a finger in Jason's face.

"You will do it, or I will make sure that I'll give them worse when I get back. And," he leaned in close for the final say, "I'll make sure the girl gets it."

Jason reluctantly retrieved the package, his eyes a mask of indecision. Man, did Strausser love this job. He left with a swish of his coat, shutting the door on the Neville boy, whistling a merry tune.

* * *

Rachel gently patted the shoulder of her daughter as she began to mutter in her sleep again.

"Charlie," she crooned, "Charlie, sweetie, wake up."

Charlie blinked twice, squinting against the early morning light filtering through the window. Rachel grimaced, as the beams of sunshine cast her daughter's bruises into full detail.

"C'mon, honey. Danny's already awake."

She sat up in the rough mattress that had been given to her, and rubbed her eyes with her fists. When she removed her hands from her face, she saw her mother peering concernedly at her, along with her brother, perched in a grand chair in the corner. Before she could speak her mind, however, the door swung open, revealing Jason, clad in the signature long green overcoat of the Monroe Republic Militia.

"What are you doing here, Nate, or whatever your name actually is," she grumbled, refusing to meet his eye. He cast nervous glances at the other Mathesons, and spoke in a quivering voice.

"I'm getting you out of here. All of you. Tonight."


	6. Chapter 6

** A/N: Sorry, I'll try not to take as long updating as I just did. I promise. Hopefully.**

* * *

Miles paced back and forth, stopping every minute or so to smooth his hair with hands, as he did not know what to do with them. Finally, he turned to a concerned looking Aaron, and spoke his mind.

"Aaron, we need to get out of here. And we're taking Nora."

The disgruntled look on the chubby man's face was enough for Miles to continue.

"C'mon, Drexel's not gonna let us leave without taking something," he paused, sighing, before continuing in a low voice. "Or someone."

Aaron gulped, but immediately looked up from his fixed gaze on the carpet.

"I've got an idea. Deal with the guard at the door, will you?"

Miles' lips twitched up in a half-smile.

"I'm on it."

* * *

Charlie, Danny, and Rachel were being roughly led down the hallway once more, nearing the vast dining room that had held them during previous interrogations. But just before they reached the vast wood doors, they made a sharp turn, their escort directing them instead towards a rickety looking staircase off the main hall. Charlie noted it's location, and vaguely recalled Neville descending earlier that day. Her stomach turned, and she felt her mother give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but somehow it only made matters worse.

The cold air of the basement hit them like a thunderstorm, and she immediately shivered, not only because of the frigid conditions, but also because of the impending torture they were bound to face below.

They were met, however, not by the faces of Strausser or Neville, but by Nate—or Jason, which was what his name actually was, according to her mother. Their escort left them there, shivering at the bottom of the stairs. Charlie waited for the clunk of the door closing shut, then strode up to Jason, shoving her finger in his face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You're just gonna get us all killed, or worse."

He held up his hands placatingly, and took a tentative step backwards. "Hey, c'mon, I want to help you."

Danny reached out, and grabbed his sister's shoulder. "Charlie, it's our best shot."

She glared at Jason, but took her brother's word, and returned to her spot beside him. "Fine. What do we have to do?"

Jason pointed at a spot on the floor in the far corner, an area covered with hole-ridden carpet, barely clinging to it's own fibers. "Underneath that is a safe. It holds a key." He swung his arm around, conscious of the stares he could feel at his back, and let it hang awkwardly at his side while he set about explaining the rest of the plan.

"It unlocks a door down here that leads to the storm cellar. We hid it as a possible escape." Seeing Charlie's incredulous glare directed at him, he quickly added, "You know, if there's a siege."

Rachel prevented Charlie from questioning further by clapping her hands together, and giving her a somewhat uncertain smile.

"Alright. Let's go."

Jason nodded, and strode to the carpet, kneeling down as he reached it's edge. With a swift sweep of his arm, he uncovered a hole in the floor boards, and stuck his arm in without hesitation. After rummaging around for a few moments, he drew his hand out, producing a small key, not unlike the one Rachel used to have to unlock her P.O. box.

"Okay, now follow me."

They trekked across the basement, careful to step carefully so as to avoid drawing attention from above. They passed tables filled with sharp objects, menacing it their simple brutality, and bloody napkins, discarded like an empty chip bag. At long last they reached the door Jason had been talking about. It was weak-looking, hinges bronzed by rust, the door itself laden with spiderweb tapestries and ominous messages etched into the paneling. Charlie leaned in to read one, squinting against the dim light of the room.

_They'll come for you as night falls. You'll never see it coming._

She recoiled in horror, averting her eyes. Danny read it as well, and as soon as he finished, he motioned for Jason to unlock the door. "Let's just get out of her before we end up like this says."

Jason nodded briskly, and stooped to insert the key in the lock. The door gave a tired moan, but swung forward without much complaint.

The storm cellar was bathed in grim light filtering through the dilapidated cover above them. He stood on his tiptoes, sliding his fingers through the crack that ran between the double doors of the cover. He managed to force it open with minimal effort, and he held out his hand.

"You guys need to get out of here."

Charlie gave him an odd look, somewhere between condescending and concerned. "What about you?"

"I have to stay. My father," he trailed off there, his eyes distant. Danny shrugged, and heaved himself up through the hole, leaning back down to help his mother up. Charlie just stood there, however, her blue eyes boring into Jason, making him feel more than marginally uncomfortable.

"Be careful," she finally said, her eyes, once clear, now conflicted. She made as if to ascend, but Jason grabbed her arm.

"Wait," he stammered. "I need you to hit me."

She furrowed her brow, and yanked her arm out of his hand. "No way. Just, I don't know, hit it against a door or something."

He reached forward, but she was already halfway out of the cellar. "But it needs to look like you 'got the better of me,' or something."

Charlie paused, but hopped back down, and stood at arm's length from him. She looked nervous, but nothing compared to what he was feeling as she made eye contact with him.

"Are you sure about this?"

He nodded, and closed his eyes.

_Whack!_ He fell backwards, his face already stinging from her blow, although he could tell she had held back. He massaged his face as he watched Charlie climb into the open air. She turned back just before closing the doors, and gave him one of those crooked smiles he had only heard about in stories.

"Put some ice on that, militia-boy," she said with a wink. Then she was gone, and the cellar cover banged close, echoing in it's finality. He sighed. It may of hurt, but man, it was worth it to see her face, her eyes one last time before she disappeared. He just prayed that he'd get to see them again, alive with energy, not dead and glassy on the floor of Monroe's office.

He picked himself off the floor, and prepared to ruin the basement in anticipation of the other soldier's return.

_Good luck, Charlie,_ he thought._ Please don't get shot._

And with that, he set about with his destruction, thoughts of Charlie Matheson still evident in his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

** A/N: This will be the last chapter, but I will be writing more Revolution fics in the future. Thank you so much for the support, and if you have any ideas for new fics, please PM me! Thanks again!**

* * *

Jason walked, shoulders sagging, down the long hallway (it only seemed longer now) and into his cramped quarters. He put his bruises and battered face into his hands, allowing his thoughts to wander away from the godforsaken hellhole he'd been raised in.

He thought of Charlie. What else? He hadn't heard anything from his fellow soldiers about finding her or Danny, or even Rachel. In fact, no one had even mentioned it to him. They had just beat him until he thought he would die, then they let him back into daily life without so much as a glare or a reprimand.

He wished they would say something, either a confirmation of Charlie's escape, or the announcement of her recapture. He felt useless just sitting here, and more and more like a traitor every day. But he couldn't just let them kill her. He wasn't too fond of Danny, but he saw the way Charlie looked at him. The sisterly love in her eyes. So, he couldn't face Danny's death either. Not if it meant suffering for Charlie.

Jesus, he was sounding like his mother after a few glasses of wine and an old photo. He sat up, straightening his uniform before leaning over to tie the laces on his boots. Whatever had happened to Charlie, he knew she wouldn't forget him. After all, how could he forget her?

He wouldn't.

* * *

Charlie felt the cold wind rush by her as they fled, shouts and gunshots already pursuing them. Behind her, her mother tripped on a branch, falling to the ground with a thud and a whoosh of hastily collected breath escaping her pursed lips.

"Mom!" She stopped, motioning for Danny to stay low. She knelt, grabbing Rachel's arm and dragging her to her feet.

"_Hey, you," _a voice echoed from her right. "_Stop, or I swear, I'll blow your fucking brains out!"_

She spun, finding herself in the direct line of the biggest gun she'd ever seen. The man in front of her hadn't seen Danny yet. Charlie motioned behind her back for him to go, and she heard him crawling low among the high grass to her left.

"What's that?" The man raised his gun higher, and made towards Danny. Charlie waited until he was even with her, then swung her arm towards his face. He fell like he'd been hit by a frying pan, and she leapt towards his gun.

"Shit!" He managed to swing his boot around, catching her in the chin as she reached for the rifle. Recoiling, Charlie threw herself on top of him, and with a swing of her right arm, knocked him unconscious. Panting, she picked herself up from the ground, and kicked the gun towards Danny.

"Here," she breathed. "Now let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

ONE MONTH LATER

Miles picked his way towards the clearing ahead, glancing behind him every few seconds to make sure Aaron and Nora were still on his tail. Seeing that they were, he sighed, and made the final push towards the empty space.

He stopped in his tracks when he broke the tree line.

"Aaron, Nora, get over here."

Nora burst through first, then Aaron. They too halted, jaws slack, and arms heavy at their side.

"Danny?"

Danny Matheson stared at his uncle, his blue eyes alight with something between joy and borderline heart attack.

"A-aron? Uncle M-miles?"

Aaron rushed forward, and nearly toppled the boy over with a bear hug, his eyes wet with tears.

"Charlie? Is she with you guys? Oh, Danny, we were so worried," he trailed off there, noticing the look in Danny's eyes.

"Yeah, she's here. Mom too. But you have to come quick."

Miles stepped forward, his voice tight with contained concern.

"What happened? What's wrong?"

Danny looked at the ground.

"Charlie's been shot."

* * *

Miles leaned over Charlie, his hands pressed against the wound on her shoulder, praying to whatever God still existed, or even cared. It wasn't a deep wound, in fact, it wasn't even serious, but she'd lost so much blood already.

Aaron and Rachel stood behind him, handing him new strips of cloth, while Danny and Nora stood ready to combat anything that came into view.

"C'mon, kid," he muttered. "You can't do this to me."

As if by magic, his niece's eyelids fluttered, and his heart began to race. But just as quickly as they had started to open, they fell closed once more. Miles cursed, and slammed his fist into the ground. "How the hell did this happen?"

"We were running from some militiamen," Danny began. "And she stopped to shoot back. One got her in the shoulder, but we all kept shooting, and eventually we got 'em all." He shrugged, and fingered his sleeve. "She said she was okay, but after about a week, she collapsed, and well, we found you."

Miles nodded. He was about to inquire further, when he felt Charlie move from underneath his clenched fist.

"M-miles?"

He turned back to her, brushing her hair out of her face as she shakily sat up. "Wh-where'd you come from?" She saw Aaron and Nora then, and her eyes lit up. "Aaron, Nora?"

She was cut off by Miles throwing his arms around her, and she braced against the ground with one arm as she hugged him back with the other.

"We're all her, Charlie. You're okay."

She looked around her, at her mother, her arm around Danny, beaming proudly down at her, at Aaron and Nora, side by side, grinning with contentment. At Miles. At her family, she realized with growing pride.

Miles. He'd come so far, endured so much for her and for Danny. Much later she would ask him, ask him why, why he'd done it, risked everything for a niece and nephew he'd learned to forget. And he'd always answer the same way.

"Because we're family, kid. Because we're family."


End file.
